Chapter 28

10 years Post Apocalypse

A Dragon's Wrath

Two Months Earlier.

Three days after Ian spoke to the Fortress council about his plans to explore the surrounding region, he and Greta were flying over unexplored territory. It was sobering to see how devoid of human life some regions were. When he did find a human settlement large enough to visit, he flew over the settlement, waving a white sheet like a flag, and dropped some leaflets.

Hi. I'm Ian, and my dragon companion is named Greta

I'm trying to reconnect with distant towns and provinces. I want to learn about other human communities and bring news of my own.

Greta will not hurt anyone as long as she is left alone.

Greta is not to be approached. She is not to be threatened. If she feels threatened, she will kill.

If you understand this and wish us to land, please find us a suitable landing site, away from people. It should be at least the size of a football field. Stake out your landing site with a sheet laid out flat on each of the four corners.

If no such site is seen, I will not land.

Best wishes

Ian Anderson.

The people he visited were nice. They were all curious about him and how he'd tamed his dragon.

Ian acquired a lot of news, most of it bad. Military bases had been hard hit in the invasion, attacked by higher-level aliens in the beginning. Ian learned this from an army deserter who'd survived by running like hell. Some communities had excessive monster trouble. He tried to help where he could. With a gray dragon companion, normally scary aliens were not a problem for him.

Sadly, nobody knew how to win the game, or overcome BG's ten-minute life/death barrier.

One larger community he flew over met him with fighter planes. One plane on each side of his dragon, and a third behind him. They motioned for him to land.

You're in our airspace. Land the dragon or we'll shoot you down, the pilot flying behind him mind-spoke.

Easy Greta, Ian tried to calm his companion.

Are you stupid? You know dragons are bulletproof? he asked the psychic pilot.

Land the damn dragon or we shoot you down, the pilot replied.

Greta used her mind to stop the three planes in mid-air; they appeared to move rapidly backward before going into nosedives as the pilots fought to regain control of their planes. Ian hoped they were okay, but they should have known better. He took pictures of the town, but wasn't worried about any potential conflict. The planes BG allowed humans to have were ridiculously short-ranged. They could stay in the air for a couple of hours before they had to land and recharge.

He kept going. A week later, he encountered a fortress bigger and better armed than his own. A small city in a mountain range near what had been a state capital. In addition to gun turrets and cannons, there were large, mounted crossbows. He saw flags and guard towers everywhere and he could feel people watching. He dropped his leaflets.

Hi! Nice dragon! The mind speech felt young, human, and female, with a clear crystalline quality Ian hadn't encountered before.

Yeah, I get that a lot, Ian responded.

I can see you from the central tower. Is that Kitykity skin armor? Where are you from? She asked. Oh. where are my manners? I'm Bridget. Welcome to Paradise Valley Refuge. You look very tough.

I'm Ian Anderson, he responded. You feel like a powerful psychic, and I'm not that tough. Someone else killed the Kitykity. I just held it still with my mind.

Mind-to-mind communication was faster and more efficient than speech.

He explained how he was trying to reconnect with the outside world and learn from other communities. She told him she was eighteen years old and head of their psychic collective.

When the aliens invaded, I joined forces with all the other psychics in the area, the telepaths, telekinetics, pyrokinetics, even some fulgurkinetics (electric lightning people), to defend this city. Individually, we're weak, but together we're powerful. That's how we've kept this region free of high-level aliens.

Six months after the invasion, Ian responded, I hired this old guy, and we drove around killing alien monsters. Your way sounds much better. I lost count of how many times I almost died.

Bridget was a good mental listener. Ian told her about his family, how he was traveling to find out what was going on, and trying to learn how to beat the 10-minute life/death barrier. I'll come back tomorrow, he said after hours of circling the city. Set up a safe place for my dragon and we'll land.

Ian and Greta spent the night nearby.

Greta was not happy about returning. Too many humans maybe. Ian was looking forward to meeting this psychic and her collective. Most human psychics were much weaker than him and he got nothing from their interactions. He had a feeling she would be different. He was older, but they had so much in common.

Hi Ian, looking forward to meeting you! Bridget mind spoke. Have you had breakfast? Oh, and does your dragon need anything?

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Me too, no, and probably not, Ian replied.

Something was up with Greta. She did not want to land. She felt unhappy and grumbly. He was busy trying to reassure her and answer Bridget's questions when something slammed into the side of his head. It felt like he'd been hit in the head by a fast-moving baseball.

His Kityskin armor helmet stopped the bullet, but not its impact. Other bullets hit him and Greta. Lightning came from nowhere and narrowly missed them. So many guns were firing at once that it sounded like thunder. A swarm of diamond-tipped arrows filled the air.

They'd flown into a trap, and it was his fault.

His stomach went through his throat as Greta instantly lost hundreds of feet of altitude. The next thing he knew, he was in free-fall. Greta used one of her claws to slice through his leather harness, sending him and his leather riding gear flying. He slammed into something that broke his fall. Hurt in the fall and covered with garbage. It was a long time before he could move.

***

Present Time

If Ian escaped from his dumpster and ran away from the city, he'd have a mile of open rocky terrain to cross before reaching any kind of cover. Running towards the city was suicide. He reached out again for a suitable alien. Even after injecting himself with the last of his Red Scourge to supercharge his abilities, he couldn't sense any aliens he could use.

Shit. It had seemed like a good idea. Visit distant communities, learn how to win the game, and or, break the 10-minute life/death barrier to bring back Stacy. Instead, he might well have put the Fortress in danger from a powerful group of psychics. Way to go, Ian, he thought.

Jet pack for cowardly human to run away in, 100,000 credits, Ian read from The Galactic Market.

He had 35,000 credits. That's what he got for giving away his monster-killing money.

Even with a jet pack, he'd need darkness to have the slightest chance of escape. He knew from the minds he sensed outside that it wasn't even noon and he had maybe ten minutes to live.

Even at the best of times, Ian ran like a spastic cripple. Being gunned down while running did not appeal to him. Getting blasted out of a dumpster seemed a dignified way to die by comparison.

I failed, he thought. Failed my sister, my family, my companions, friends, and my community. I'm sorry. I should have been better, smarter, stronger.

Why is Ian still alive? Ian felt Bridget ask someone. They had one job. What did they do, break for breakfast?

Ian no longer felt people standing around the mortar aimed at his dumpster, and they hadn't seemed like the sort to slack off on the job.

Ian heard explosions and the roar of a very angry dragon. He started laughing uncontrollably, laughing so hard his sides hurt.

Greta had been faking! She'd pretended to be badly wounded to lure men away from the city. She'd played dead, then doubled back... I knew Greta wouldn't die that easy! She was faking! She's a powerful psychic! And did I forget to tell you, she turns invisible? Ian asked.

Shit. It's the dragon! Ian felt Bridget shout. That thing was supposed to be dead!

Ian heard screaming and gunfire, along with the crackling roar of flames. Greta? He tried. No response. Her rage-filled mind was moving so fast it was like everything around her was in slow motion.

It was clear Greta took the city's trying to kill her personally. He'd wondered what she was capable of if she got truly angry, and now they were going to find out.

He sensed Greta using her fire with deadly, strategic precision. She avoided the city's attacks while targeting anything flammable, even factoring in the wind direction to maximize her fire's effects. He felt the fear and pain from the city militia as their armory exploded and went up in flames around them. People, most of them civilians, got burned alive, and in many cases, eaten.

Ian felt his dumpster grow warmer from the nearby fires, even though Paradise Refuge was over half a mile away. Well, if Greta and this psycho city kill each other, I'll have 700 miles to travel to get home. Piece of cake, Ian thought.

Everyone to the shelter now! Bridget shouted.

He'd recovered enough to move, at least. Pulling himself into a painful crouch, he stood up on the dumpster lid, pulled out his small light, and looked around again. How the hell did this huge dumpster get turned upside down after he'd been thrown inside? Maybe he slammed into its side and tipped it over?

He threw himself against different sides of the dumpster, trying to knock it on its side.

Ow. Ow. He ached. His muscles and bones hurt from slamming against the dumpster walls, but the dumpster didn't budge.

Super-Awesome Solar-Powered Diamond Edged Power Saw, for stupid human trapped in a dumpster. 10,000 credits. Ian read the Galactic Market display and sighed. This seemed like his best option.

By now Crazy Steve would have had this dumpster in pieces and turned it into an armored vehicle. He missed the old guy. Last he heard, Crazy Steve had had three kids with his significant other. Dirty old bastard.

Ian felt more people suffer and die in the city. It was a massacre.

It's trying to get into the underground shelter. Guards! Do something! Bridget mind spoke. Ian could feel Bridget's fear... Ian? Ian? I know you're there. Call off your dragon and we'll surrender! Please! Whatever you want!

If you want my help, answer my question.

No, Ian, there's no way to bring back the dead. We don't know any more about the 10-minute life/death barrier than you do. Please help us. She responded.

Greta? Ian tried, but he knew there was nothing he could do for the people of the city. Greta would come for him next.

Escaping from this city's military would have been a piece of cake compared to evading a pissed-off gray dragon.

He felt Bridget's fear, saw terrifying images through her eyes. Greta could be seen by the many arrows sticking into her head and neck. Aside from that, she was invisible. Fire and dead bodies surrounded her. The dragon towered over the girl and the other psychics. Rage flowed off Greta in waves, her open mouth filled with fire. She said one word. “MINE”.

Then mental silence. Bridget and her psychic collective were dead.

What had Greta meant by her statement “mine”? Her what? Her city? That didn't make sense.

Minutes later, he felt Greta approach. His dumpster tipped over, and he fell out.

Ian staggered to his feet, eyes tearing, getting used to the sunlight.

This was how he would die, age of 23, killed by his alien companion? Greta's body was visible now. She no longer seemed angry and made no move to kill him.

Their psychic connection came back, returning as if nothing had happened. Her anger was gone. She just felt very full.

Greta never blamed me for the attack, Ian realized, unbelieving. While they were under attack, she'd spotted a metal box and threw her companion into it to keep him safe. Then she pretended to be severely wounded to distract and divide their attackers before doubling back and proceeding to eliminate the perceived threat.

He'd been right. Greta didn't understand the concept of throwing someone into the garbage.

In the distance, Ian felt hundreds of humans, still looking for a dragon tree behind the hill where Greta had pretended to crash. They were noticing smoke from the direction of their city and becoming increasingly concerned. But they'd been told in no uncertain terms to find a dragon tree and orders were orders.

Ian must be in shock. He should be sad, angry, or ashamed, instead, he felt nothing.

Greta looked tired. But aside from some fifty arrows in her head and body and minor burns and flesh wounds, she was fine.

Fires raged in the distance. Any human in the city not dead was in hiding.

Greta nudged him with her head, not understanding what was wrong.

Ian couldn't look at his display. He knew what BG would say.

Your companion killed unknown hundreds of humans. If your companion could kill unknown hundreds of humans, anyone else's companion could kill twice as many humans with three of their legs tied behind their backs.

He buried his head in his hands. It was all for nothing. All that work, all this death, and he was no closer to any of his goals than before. A waste of time.

Greta proceeded to grab the arrows with her clawed feet and pull them out one by one like they were annoying splinters. When she was done, she brought his saddle and harness over to him and waited for him to improvise a repair. Greta had eaten so many humans, all she wanted to do was sleep, and when dragons slept, they slept for a long time.

She flew through the night and into the next day, dropping Ian off near the front gate of the Fortress before flying away.

Ian sat on the ground, not moving until Buddy came out, levitated him onto its back, and carried him inside.